The Light in the Darkness
by MisunderstoodMidget
Summary: There is a War. Death & Destruction surround all. Follow Draco's son through his years at Hogwarts as doors that have been locked all his life slowly begin to open. This is the story of William Malfoy.
1. Upon the Darkest Hour

**Chapter One**

**Upon The Darkest Hour**

The darkest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as the sky transformed from its inky black to a wondrous display of bright, beautiful colors that stretched themselves blearily across the large, stately mansions of Salazar's Hollow.

Now normally, every wizard and witch who lived in the community, at sundown would be in their own houses, conversing nonchalantly about wizards or witches that had been killed or they had killed. However, lying beneath a stained-glass window of the Malfoy Manor, was the only pedestrian out at this time of night. His name was, William Malfoy.

William Malfoy was eleven years old, and in that short space of time, he had already become nonexistent to his parents, Draco and Pansy. Even William didn't know what he had done wrong to deserve not a word from his own parents. William, or Will, as he referred himself to, looked like a portrait of his father. He had the same blonde hair that grew like a field of wheat; never having been given a proper comb, it stuck up in certain places. He wore the same silvery, soulless eyes that his father had, except they were starved from deprivation. When he was young, he vaguely remembered his eyes resembling something alive, but now as he lay beneath the window, he saw nothing at all. Everything was the same, except for the pale face of Will. Will's pale face had a bit of pink to it, something his father never had. Not that Will was grateful for it, seeing as he hadn't spoken to his father or mother in at least five years.

As he lay beneath the window, he heard the drunken howls from the neighborhood. He peeked through the scraggly, unkempt, bushes, although he already knew what was going on. At sundown, the mangled bodies of the witches and wizards who were on Harry Potter's side that had been killed in that day alone were proudly displayed against the sunset by their murderers, which was accompanied by sickening drunk laughter. His attention was averted from the sickening sight, however, by a voice with laced with rum. Even, though, he, himself had not spoken to the voice, in five years, he knew that the voice belonged to no one else, but his father.

''Goyle killed six Aurors today.'' he slurred, proudly. ''That idiot has 'proved a lot since 'Ogwarts.''

''Za bloke sure 'as, Malfoy.'' said an equally drunken voice that Will didn't recognize.

''Now 'bout da boy's Marking.''

Will's ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in unison. He tentatively stretched his own fingers up to the sill of the glass-stained window. He saw rippling images of numerous drunks changing colors as they swaggered from pane-to-pane.

''Well, eve'un knows dat da Marking takes places when da kid is at seventeen.'' Malfoy boasted. ''Bu' my kid, is special. Even, though I 'aven't talked ta da lit'le bastard in four years-''

''Five.'' Will whispered through gritted teeth.

''-He'll be Marked 'fore he goes ta 'Ogwarts.'' Malfoy said, rather proudly, taking a long swig from a rum bottle.

''No.'' Will murmured. ''No. There's no way.'' Will's throat was as dry as sandpaper, his tongue was suffocating him as his throat began to close. He brought himself to swallow, and slowly stood up from the cluster of dead, blackened rose bushes he had been concealed by.

Will, then swiftly made his way to the front walkway adorned with the same dying rose bushes as underneath the window. The high-pitched, sickening, drunk laughter plaguing his mind.

''No eleven-year-old should have to hear that.'' Will murmured, as he got onto all-fours, and shrank beneath the dead rose bushes to the terribly shaken pavement. No sooner had his palm touched the ancient gravel that a thick leather boot graced by a long, billowing black traveling cloak appeared before his splayed fingers with a loud, whip-like crack. The crack tore the air like a gunshot and made everything in Salazar's Hollow still.

Icy sweat coursing down his body, Will arched his neck to see a tall figure standing before him. The figure said nothing, but a short, evil chuckle issued from its ancient lips. Will could not seeing the figure's face as the cloak hood was shrouding any physical feature he could possibly have. He was too stunned to move. The figure reached down a spidery, almost pure white hand and grabbed Will by the shirt collar. He was too stunned to talk. The figure lead him up the walkway to the only thing kept up to decency in the mansion- the door. With his other hand, the figure grabbed at the polished, diamond handle and the door opened with a crack that made Will's stomach drop to his shoes.

The little conversation that had resumed after the arrival of the figure had quieted as the door was opened. The only light came from candle that were charmed to hover slowly around the foyer. The entire party stood still for a brief moment, then Malfoy and Pansy slowly sank into a bow, touching their unkempt marble floor, their arms stretched out before them. They stood up as everyone bowed to the figure.

''Master.'' said Malfoy softly, cupping his free hand and kissing it, Pansy doing the same.

''Rise, all of you!'' boomed the figure's voice. The voice sent chills up Will's spine, and then he didn't doubt who it was. The voice was cold, unearthly, and high-pitched. The party arose as one, and the figure stretched up his pure white hand to drew back the hood.

It was Lord Voldemort. His skin was so pale it was almost white. His nose so disfigured it looked like snake's nostrils. His hands so splayed and skinny looked like a pair of large, skinny spiders. He was completely bald, but his eyes were what announced his fierce terror. His eyes were red. Red enough to be made from the blood of every murder he had committed over the years.

''Master.'' said Malfoy hoarsely. ''Please, Master forgive my son's presumptuous antics. He is most uncouth.''

''Accepted, Malfoy.'' said Voldemort. ''Seeing as you are my right hand it would be utter peril if your son wasn't in my Army.''

''Well I _don_'t want to be in your Army, Voldemort!'' Will yelled. ''This is a horrible society!''

''YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!'' Malfoy yelled. He struck Will hard across the face, ripping his shirt and sending him crashing into a glass swan, which shattered immediately. The splinters of glass ripped through his body, stabbing every inch of him. He cried out in pain, as blood poured from every place he could think of, but no one seemed to hear him. The party just laughed and jeered at Will. Malfoy then began hitting Will in every place imaginable. He then threw Will with all the strength he could must at the stairs, staining the marble a deep scarlet from his blood.

''GO TO YOUR ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT OR I'LL KILL YOU!'' Malfoy yelled. ''DIE THERE, BASTARD!'' Will turned on his wounded heel and limped up the stairs, grabbing onto the railing and pulling himself up.

An eternity later, he arrived at his room and fell over the threshold. His room was in total disorder; drawers were pulled open, clothes were thrown about the room, his bed was unmade, as his cheap blue wallpaper was peeling around the edges. White-hot pain pulsated through his body like poison. He lay face-down on the floor of his bedroom. His eyes watered with pain. The drunken laughter still rang in his head like a church bell. Will brought himself to stand up and limp over to the only window in his entire room, many panes were missing and those Will had repaired them as best as he could, with bits and bit of clothing. Little sunlight permeated the window.

He then fell backward over the rusted metal bars of his bedframe, slicing open news wounds along his legs. He cried out in pain as his bloodied body settled in his thin, soiled sheets.

He was in a terribly familiar place. He collapsed onto this very bed when he father became drunk (which was often, almost every night) and would hit him. He would lay motionless for hours on end, trying to avoid thinking about the terrible pain that ripped through him as the blood-caked sores stained the already deeply soiled sheets.

He lay, his breathing shallowed as he stared around his bare, blue walls. Will began to cry softly, blinking back the tears as best as he could. All he wanted, was to be loved for once in his life. That's all he ever wanted, but would never have.

Will struggled to sit up. Then he saw by the meager light, a silhouette against the silver moon. The silhouette got larger and larger until it landed on the sill. It was a beautiful snowy owl, with a letter tied it its leg. Will limped over to the window and undid the knots that held the window together. The owl flew in, and then looked at Will with large amber eyes. Will stroked the owl with a bloodied finger, then carefully undid the letters. The owl puffed out its feathers importantly and then took flight. He then, quickly redid the knots of the windows, before carefully sinking into his soiled bed-sheets once more. There were two letters. One was the acceptance letter to Hogwarts addressed to him in emerald green ink:

_Mr. William Malfoy_

_7 Salazar Way_

_Small Bedroom_

_Salazar's Hollow, Wiltshire_

With a trembling finger, and a streak of blood, Will opened the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment. He only had to read:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Before he felt elated for the first time in his life. He brought himself to smile slightly, as he stared up at the bare ceiling. He unfolded the other letter. It was written in an untidy scrawl and said the words:

_Come to Sojourn & Colks in London immediately._

Without any further thought, Will folded up the two letters and undid every bit of cloth that held together his window. He slid through the small gap, down the smooth stone roof and disappeared into the darkness, not looking back.


	2. Through Sojourn & Colks

**Chapter Two **

Through Sojourn & Colks

The bitter cold made Will wish he had thought to bring his cloak before he ran away. The unforgiving wind made his eyes water as it whipped at his face. He blew on his free hand for warmth as the other hand was grasping the anonymous note in his jeans pocket. He limped soundly through Salazar's Hollow, grateful that the drunks of the twilight were now dozing into hangovers, and the sick laughter had abated the streets. Some of his wounds still stung, and blossomed blood onto his jeans. Will was as determined as ever not to go back from the Hell he had just leapt from. He knew from eavesdropping on the stair landing when his father held meetings that, London was a good all-night walk and Underground ride from where he now stood on the barren streets, but he didn't care.

Somewhere, somehow, someone knew he was being treated like a prisoner and wanted to help him. He continued to walk until he came upon an ignored, deserted play-park with a rusty, formidable iron fence that made Will think about falling over his bed-frame and scraping up his legs. The unkempt, ignored grass was starved yellow and brown with age, and it curled forcefully against the gate as if it had jaws. A rusted, broken jungle-gym was far back, against the thick vines that had ensnared themselves around the fence. An equally rusted and poorly repaired slide loomed in front of a bench with chipping sea-green paint. Dead flowers spilled over the flowerbeds that dotted the park. A seesaw with no paint and several noticeable bent and loose nails due to poor repair jobs remained motionless next to a colorless, lopsided merry-go-round. Will limped easily through the gates (their doors hanging off rusted hinges) and settled underneath the slide in the dead grass, curled up for warmth, and let sleep slowly overtake him.

He was standing the darkness alone. Cold, cruel laughter ripped through his ears, then a giant, misty form of his father appeared, towering in the shadows. He brought his giant hand down with a sharp intake of breath Will found himself bleeding from his forehead. The cold, cruel laughter still rang in his ears.

''What are you doing down there, little boy?'' asked a voice. Will's eyes opened and he stared around blearily. He felt blood running down the side of his face and a pounding pain in his temple. He had a sharp intake of breath when he set his soulless eyes upon a man that had spoken to him.

''It's alright.'' said the man kindly. ''I'm not going to hurt you.'' the man had vivid red hair and freckles. He had large brown eyes, a long nose, and big hands and feet. His face wore a kind smile.

''Who are you?'' Will asked shakily, struggling to prop himself up on his injured elbow.

''My name is Ron Weasley.'' the man said. ''I was the one who sent you that note. What happened? You should be at Sojourn and Colks. It's much safer than this play-park.''

''I-I was tired sir.'' said Will, still frightened. ''I'm sorry.'' he then froze his body, an expression of pain on his face.

''What are you doing?'' Ron asked, a friendly chuckle in his voice.

''Aren't you going to hit me now?'' Will asked. ''It's what my father did.''

''Hit you?'' Ron asked, as though the idea was ludicrous. ''No! I certainly am not going to hit you! I'm trying to help you, and I will. I wouldn't even dream of hitting a child. Especially one already so beat up as yourself. Did your father hit you like that?'' Ron's hand moved toward Will's newest wound and brushed back his hair. Will said nothing.

''Did he?'' Ron asked, staring into Will's eyes. ''I won't tell anyone, I just have to know.'' The tears came easily, they rolled down his cheeks, seeping into his welts. Ron wrapped his arms around Will, patting him on the back.

''It's okay.'' said Ron gently. ''It's okay, no one will hurt you anymore.'' Will's tears slowly abated and he stayed underneath the slide, being cradled by Ron.

''Sir.'' said Will slowly. ''What is Sojourn and Colks?''

''Sojourn and Colks is an old, deserted furniture store.'' Ron explained, letting go of Will.

''How could it be safe then?'' Will asked.

''Well-'' said Ron, choosing his words carefully. ''Sojourn and Colks is just a cover my wife and I use.''

''Cover for what?'' Will asked.

''A home.'' said Ron simply. ''My wife, Hermione, and I we run a home for children who have nowhere to go, and we have a unique system for finding children much like yourself.''

''What system?'' Will asked, liking this man more ever minute.

''My owl.'' said Ron. ''Pig. My wife, being a Muggle-born Witch is very intelligent and fitted Pig with her own Charm. A Deprehensio-Liberi Charm.''

''Can I live there?'' Will asked.

''Of course you can.'' said Ron. ''I think it would be best if we used a Portkey to travel instead, seeing as you're bleeding a lot, I'm not sure Muggles would take to it lightly.'' He pulled out a thin, wooden wand from his waistband and pointed it at the tightly ensnared vines.

_''Diffindo.''_ he said simply. A piece of the vine broke off with ease. Ron surveyed it lazily. _''Accio.''_ the vine floated to his hand. _''Portus.''_ the vine glowed with a faint blue light.  
''Sir.'' said Will, interested. ''What are you doing?''

''You'll see.'' said Ron, grabbing Will's uninjured hand.

Will felt a painful jerk somewhere in his navel, and the play-park melted around him in a whirl of color. He felt short of breath, as if he was going to throw up, and then, he smacked onto the pavement of a deserted street. Looming before him was the dirtiest building Will had ever laid eyes on. Ron helped him to his feet.

The building was made of dirty red brick. The door was in bad shape and in need of repainting. The shop windows that displayed ugly moth-eaten couches were missing several panes. A large, splotched, almost illegible sign hanging by one rusted bronze hinge read the words: SOJOURN & COLKS in script lettering. Will surveyed the shop with distaste, but Ron wore a small, schoolboy smile as if he were being mischievous. He walked up to the shop window and rapped on the few panes that were intact with his wand. The glass was still for a moment then ripples pulsated through the glass. Ron stepped backward, seized Will's uninjured arm and leapt through the glass.

The glass window melted into a solid brick wall. Will found himself standing, not on a cold, night street in London, in front an antique furniture store, but in a large room made of red brick with an uneven off-white tiled floor. The only light came from two large windows that took up a wall each, that silvery light streamed through. There was a long, spiral staircase twisting this way and that, through the building like a giant serpent. A large, empty fireplace stood black against the red brick wall. Other than that, Will and Ron were the only two things in the room.

''Hermione!'' Ron called. ''I got him!'' With a loud crack, that sank Will's stomach to his shoes, a woman with bushy brown hair and brown eyes wearing a periwinkle blue dressing gown appeared in the room.

''This is my wife, Hermione.'' Ron introduced to Will.

''Pleasure.'' Hermione smiled at him.

''Pleased to meet you, miss.'' said Will, giving a short bow.

''What a well-mannered young man you are.'' She said. ''What is your name?''

''Hermione, let the boy sleep, he's had a long journey.'' Ron said abruptly.

''Ron!'' said Hermione, somewhat reproachful. ''He's covered in blood! Was he hit?''

''I'll tell you as soon as he is in bed. Let him sleep.'' Ron said, in a final sort of way.

''Ever since our schooldays honestly, Ron!'' said Hermione hotly, her hand resting on the stair banister. ''Very well. Come on them, er-Malfoy.'' Will's blood ran cold. As he was about to put his foot on the sixth stair, he turned to Hermione.

''Sorry?'' he asked.

''Oh, it's nothing, dear, since I do not know your actual name, I just thought of a name to call you. You look a lot like a boy I knew from my own days at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. Sorry, if it offended you.''

''No, miss.'' Will said, as he continued to climb the stairs. ''It didn't. I don't even know the man.''

Hermione led Will up the serpent staircase to what seemed to be the topmost floor. Crooked Wizarding photographs dotted the walls, many of a group of people with flaming red hair. There was also a newspaper clipping yellowing with age that showed a black-and-white photo of a family in front of a towering pyramid pinned up next to a color Wizarding photograph that showed a teenage redhead, a black-haired-green-eyed, bespectacled teenage boy, and a teenage girl with bushy brown hair, all smiling and waving furiously, their arms linked with one another. There was just one door in the small hallway. Hermione led him to the door, but didn't open it.

''Take the bed nearest to the window.'' She said to him. ''I'll see you in the morning. Good night.'' She gave him a quick hug, before Disapparating. Will smiled slightly and turned the doorknob.

The room was large and dark. There were only a few windows along the walls, and one long window on each wall at the end. Meager moonlight played across the identical navy blue bedspreads. It swam from bed-to-bed, not lingering much. Will watched the silver light curiously, following it slowly from sleeping child to sleeping child. The moonlight reached the bed nearest to the window and too tired to even take off his shirt, fell into the navy blue bedspread. It was like flopping onto a cloud. A digital clock embedded in the red-brick wall flashed neon green numbers. It flashed 4:16 AM, before Will's eyes slowly closed.

An hour or so later, Will was jolted awake by voices arguing, trying to whisper, but not having much success.

''Ron!'' said a voice, which Will recognized as Hermione's. ''You were the one who wouldn't tell me! And now, you want to throw him out? You were the one that found him!'' she said hotly.

''Well, that was before I truly knew who he was!'' Ron yelled. ''Had I have knew he was that-that wanker's offspring I would have left him to die under that slide!''

''So what?'' Hermione yelled. ''So, he's Malfoy's child! We're just Ash's-''

''Shut up!'' Ron hissed. ''Point is, he's a damn spy for his father!''

''How would you know, Ron?'' Hermione yelled. ''The poor thing is covered in blood! I doubt he'd be a spy of any sort!''

''Fine!'' Ron yelled. ''But when we wake up and see the Dark Mark over our house don't blame me!''

''So, you aren't going to toss him out?'' Hermione asked, tentatively. There was a long, hard silence following Hermione's inquiry. Will's breath caught in his throat, staring at the four square parquet. Anxiousness pulsating through his body like poison.

''No.'' said Ron, finally. ''I won't.''

''Do you promise, Ron?'' Hermione asked him, worriedly.

''Yes, Hermione, dear, I promise, I won't throw him out, but Geoffrey won't be at all pleased with it.'' He replied.

''Well, Geoffrey will have to adapt, just like Scabbers did to Crookshanks, remember?'' said Hermione, her voice full of warm happiness.

''Hermione.'' Said Ron, somewhat stiffly, torn between disturbance and absolute seriousness. ''Scabbers turned out to be a mass murderer.''

''Oh right.'' Hermione murmured. ''Right. Bad example.''

''Anyway, it's late, and you haven't laid down at all since you brought Will here. I'll tend to the children this morning. You sleep.'' Hermione said sweetly.

''Thank you.'' Said Ron, yawning. There was the sound of them clambering up the serpentine staircase, and that was the only sound Will heard as he fell back into his pillows, wondering if Ron would keep his promise to Hermione.


	3. Break of the Unspoken

**Chapter Three **

The Break of the Unspoken

''Wake up everyone! Breakfast is almost ready!'' Hermione called. Will's eyes opened. The neon green light flashed: 9:00 AM over the sea of bedraggled children.

''Breakfast?'' Will yawned in astonishment. ''You mean I get fed here?''

''Yeah, breakfast.'' Said a girl's voice. Will turned to the bed next to him, as he was undoing his blanket from his legs. The girl had curly, dark red hair and dark blue eyes; her face was pink with tiredness.

''Don't you get breakfast?'' the girl inquired. ''I mean from your mum and dad?'' Will said nothing. The girl didn't acknowledge Will after that.

Seeing as he fell asleep in his clothes, which were ragged and three times too big for his body, Will just pulled on his sneakers, which he had fell out of earlier. As he sat up, he became aware of a pounding pain on the side of his head, then realized that he had bled on the bedspread all night and now a great portion of his pillow was stained a bluish-black. His baggy, dark gray T-shirt was even darker than its natural color. His silvery-blonde hair was disheveled, but he didn't care. His T-shirt was also ripped in two along the back in a jagged, displeasing line, exposing his bruised and scarred back. Without a word, as the other children were pulling off their nightclothes, he left the room, and began his descent along the serpentine staircase. He was soon joined by the girl who slept in the bed beside him.

''Hi!'' she said cheerfully, bouncing alongside Will, brushing her hair as she talked.

''Hullo.'' Said Will dully, not wanting to talk much.

''My name's Ashley.'' She went on, oblivious to Will's withdrawn attitude. ''Ashley Weasley. People call me Ash.''

''Are you related to Ron?'' Will asked, feigning an interest as not to talk about his own family.

''Yeah.'' Said Ash, as they made their way down a section of the serpentine staircase where the walls were plastered in _Daily Prophet_ clippings, some yellowing with immense age, and crumbling at the sides. ''He's my father.''

''Must be nice.'' Will murmured, as they clambered closer to the main lobby where a hard gale was pounding forcefully against the mullioned windows. Odd bronze lanterns were lit and slowly floating around the room.

''What?'' Ash asked, as she leapt from the third to last stair.

''Nothing.'' Will said quickly, grateful for the sudden rush of the haggard children from the Sleeping Quarters.

There were aboutten haggard children who arose from their beds after Will and Ash. Despite their slim number, the children wove into a knot. The knot traveled through the lobby, their tired eyes resting softly upon the gale as if it were calming their tortured souls, then it weaved through a doorframe where the knot broke ranks. When the last tousle-haired head left the front of Will, he could see that they had entered a terribly disorganized kitchen. There was a fairly long wooden table with several mismatched chairs haphazardly clustered around it near a group of the same mullioned windows. There was wooden paneling along the ceiling that seemed to trap the off-white paint that crept around the walls. There was a small dark granite countertop that held a steel basin in which dishes were cleaning themselves. A group of cabinets snaked along the top of the kitchen as well as the bottom. There was commotion of sharp banging coming from the cabinet below the sink. The copper pots that had not been used were restless and venting their energy by making as much noise as possible. In front of every mismatched chair lay an either chipped or tarnished plate.

''C'mon.'' Ash said. She grabbed Will's arm and dragged him over to the mullioned windows, and sat down.

''I forgot.'' Ash said, brushing her curls out of her eyes. ''You never told me your name.'' she dragged out the word ''your''.

''Oh. Will.'' He said dully. Ash laughed.

''What?'' she said. ''You don't have a last name?''

''Er-yeah.'' Said Will offhandedly. ''I-er-don't.''

''But everyone has a last name.'' Ash persisted.

''Some people don't.'' Will argued as scrambled eggs appeared on the plates and milk filled their glasses by magic. He immediately began eat. He never knew just how hungry he was. He was about to take a sip of his milk, before Hermione walked towards him. She handed him two metal cups. Tears rested on her eyes, and Will knew why.

''Here, drink these.'' Hermione said, somewhat motherly, as she wrung her hands.

''What are they-er-Mrs. Weasley?''

''Blood Replenishing P-Potion and Healing Potion dear.'' Hermione said softly. Then she scurried away before she could say anything. Ash stained her neck and stared as Hermione moved through the kitchen with prominent eyes.

''I wonder why my mum is crying.'' Ash murmured. Will stared at his scrambled eggs for a moment, unnoticeably twirling the fork between his fingers.

''She probably was near onions or something.'' Will said quickly, downing his potions, then shoving a particularly large forkful of egg into his mouth to mask the taste and prolong his silence.

''Just tell me, Will.'' Ash persisted again, once the knot was formed, then quickly broke ranks again in the lobby.

''No.'' Will murmured. He walked to the wooden bench that wrapped it way around the room underneath the mullioned windows where a forceful gale was still pounding.

''Why?'' Ash said, joining him on the bench.

''Because-'' Will paused, trying to word what he was going to say. ''Because-friends, don't hurt friends.''

''How could a name possibly hurt someone?'' Ash asked him.

''Trust me, names can.'' Will murmured.

''Just tell me.'' Ash repeated.

''No, Ash.'' Will retorted furiously, standing up from the bench, his fists clenched.

''ASHLEY GINEVRA WEASLEY!'' The two of them spun around at the sound of a voice that quieted the entire lobby.

''Geoffrey.'' Ash whispered. ''My brother.'' The voice belonged to a 15-year-old boy with flaming red hair, freckles, and blue eyes. He had big hands, a big nose, and big feet. He looked livid.

''What in the name of Merlin are you on about?'' he yelled, swiping her by the arm away from Will.

''What's your problem, Geoffrey?'' Ash yelled, her ears scarlet.

''Do you know who he is?'' Geoffrey yelled, his voice getting hoarse.

''Yes I do!'' Ash yelled. ''His name is Will and he's more torn at the seams than we will ever be!''

''Do you know who his father is?'' Geoffrey shouted.

''No! But how would that matter?'' Ash retorted.

''Trust me! With this bastard being your 'friend' it would matter!'' Geoffrey yelled. ''Honestly, Ash, I'm only trying to protect you!''

''Protect me?'' Ash yelled. ''From what? Blokes now, Geoff! What's next, mum and dad?''

''And that's another thing!'' Geoffrey yelled. ''RON AND HERMIONE ARE NOT OUR PARENTS! OUR REAL PARENTS WERE KILLED BY DRACO MALFOY WHEN YOU WERE ONLY TWO!''

A terrible silence rang in the lobby. The silence screamed in Will's ears, as Ash turned towards him, then her eyes swimming with tears ran up the staircase.

The hours passed slowly. No one spoke to Will, or acknowledged him. As soon as the sun set, the gale still pounding against the blackness of the windows, Will walked up the staircase to the sleeping quarters. He heard nothing, but the muffled sobs of Ash. He walked over to her bed. Her face was buried in her pillow. The parquet creaked, but Ash didn't look up.

''Ash.'' Will said softly. He sat on his bed, and sighed. He touched her shoulder. ''Ash.'' He repeated. Ash rose from her pillow. Her face was red and tear-strained, her eyes were puffy from crying.

''Ash, I am so sorry. I-I honestly didn't know. I-''

''I knew all along.'' Ash murmured.

''Knew what?'' Will asked, surprised she was talking to him.

''Knew who you were. I knew your last name. I was awake too.'' She told him. Will stared.

''Then why'd you-''

''The only reason I did that was to see if you would tell me straight out, but you didn't. And what you said earlier- friends, don't hurt friends, proved to me that, it's not always like-father-like-son. It proved to me that, a Malfoy and a Weasley could be friends.'' Ash smiled at him. Will gave a half-smile and put his arm around her shoulder.


	4. Marcus Flint

**Chapter Four **

Marcus Flint

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, and an eerie silence settled over the house, Will and Ash slowly crept out of bed, and pulled on their dressing gowns, at the sound of two familiar voices. They sneaked down the stair-landing, taking care as if the entire staircase was littered with glass, Ash leading the way with a levitating candle she had snatched from the lobby. They neared the kitchen's doorframe and slowly peeked around the edge. They saw a haggard Ron and tousle-haired Geoffrey sitting at the table, their faces illuminated by a number of stationary candles suspended in the air around them.

''You know, Geoff, you can't protect Ash forever. She's going to Hogwarts in a month.'' Ron said, sipping what appeared to be sherry.

''But she's friends with him.'' Said Geoff bitterly, putting an emphisis on the last word, and sipping his own glass of sherry.

''Geoff, you know I resent him as much as you do. I promised Aunt Hermione he could stay here.'' Ron said.

''And you're allowing it? Willingly, I mean?'' Geoff asked, downing his glass of sherry and pouring a second glass.

''Well-I must admit, your sister is pleased with the Malfoy bastard.'' Ron admitted.

''I don't give a damn if she's pleased with him. I don't want her to be pleased with him. I don't want her around him. He's the bad feather of the phoenix, Uncle Ron.'' Geoff muttered.

''I know he is, but you can't pal around with Ash. She's an intelligent bird, she will soon discover he's a bad bloke, and not hang around him.'' Ron replied, pouring his third glass of sherry.

''Over my dead body.'' Ash whispered through gritted teeth. Will put a hand to her mouth to stifle her resentment, and their candle flew from Ash's hand with a sharp thud it hit the floor.

''An' you gotta not to protect her anymore. She's a growing girl, she doesn't need protection from you.'' Ron said, too drunk to take in the scuffle outside the kitchen.

''Well, if I don't protect her, she's not going to realize that he's a bad bloke.'' Geoff said, not noticing the scuffle either. Ash and Will straightened up, and listened raptly, brushing their disheveled hair out of their eyes.

''Well, I got that problem solved already.'' Ron said, leaning closer to his nephew's face. ''They won't be together for long. I found Will's Godfather, and he agreed to take him in.''

''Who's his Godfather?'' Geoff asked, imploringly.

''A Slytherin bastard that was on the Quidditch team when I was at Hogwarts.'' Ron said. ''He says he got over his drinking problem, but that's about as true as a troll's word to me. His name's Marcus Flint.''

''I think I've heard of him.'' Said Geoff thoughtfully. ''Didn't he run from You-Know-Who because he didn't want to be Marked?''

''Yes, he did, but dunno why. His whole family is a batch of Death-Eaters.'' Ron murmured, drinking more sherry. He then put a hand of Geoff's shoulder, as if it was a gesture of comfort.

''Don't worry. Flint will be here to pick up the bastard tomorrow, before breakfast, so you don't have to dance in a patch of Doxies for long, Geoff. Your sister will soon be devoid of any Death-Eater's son.'' Ron gave an encouraging smile, then stood up.

''C'mon, Geoff. It's really late. We should get some sleep.'' Before they headed for the doorframe, Will and Ash had already started running up the stairs, three at a time, then careened into their beds, both of them, out of breath, and staring up into the endless void of blackness, that by morning, would be a ceiling.

''You think it's true, Will?'' Ash whispered, curling her blanket around her shoulders and staring at the bed beside her.

''Think what's true?'' Will asked, savoring the warmth of a blanket.

''What my fa-I mean what my uncle said. About your Godfather, you know, coming to take you home tomorrow?'' Ash replied.

''Probably. I mean what else would your brother and your uncle be so pleased about that has to do with me?'' Will said, sighing deeply. ''I mean, this isn't fair! The second I finally find a friend and finally don't have to forage for food, or cringe at the sight of my caretakers, I get whisked away from it all! I don't even know my Godfather for starters, much less that I had one.''

''Uncle Ron's my Godfather.'' Ash said. ''My dad, I think, his name was, George was his brother. So maybe, this Marcus Flint could be related to you somehow.''

''Maybe, but I would've known him then. That's what my dad makes sure of. If I'm related to someone he hasn't killed yet, then I know them.'' Will murmured. Ash said nothing.

''I just don't want to leave you. I mean, what if I never see you again?'' Will asked the window panes blankly.

''I'm sure we'll see each other someday soon.'' Ash murmured.

''How? Someday could be like twenty years from now.'' Will told her, sitting up.

''I know.'' Ash murmured, sliding her arms around Will's shoulders. ''That's what I'm afraid of.''

''I know.'' Will whispered, sliding his arms around Ash. ''I'm scared too.''

''That's why I didn't tell you.'' Ash murmured, it was almost inaudible.

''Didn't tell me what?'' Will asked. Having eavesdropped on his father for so many years, Will doubted if he couldn't hear anything.

''Didn't tell you about-well-it's not really a Home rule-more of an obvious one.'' Ash said, stumbling over her words.

''Look, Ash, just say it.''

''It's just, we aren't allowed to form bonds, because one day, the kid your friends with might be-taken away by a guardian, because it-well-hurts.'' She said.

''I can see why you didn't tell me.'' Will murmured, avoiding eye contact with Ash, tears stinging his eyes like a swarm of angry doxies. ''It hurts.''

''Yeah.'' Ash murmured. Her voice sounded strangled and old, as if she had lost use for it. She cleared her throat. ''We should get to bed, you know.'' She whispered, sliding off of Will's bed, and back into her own.

''I'm just afraid to close my eyes.'' She murmured. ''I'm afraid I won't see you again.''

Later that day, morning had barely risen itself, traces of nighttime hung in the air. A faint mist hung about the bodes of water, as if the world was still drowsy. However, Will, and Ash were already up, fully clothed, their stomachs screaming to be fed. Will hadn't even to feebly attempt to tame his hair. So it was handsomely rumpled. His shirt was terribly wrinkled, his jeans were threadbare. The early morning sunlight that crept throughout the town, seemed to forget the Home, and Will didn't blame it. He stood by the untouched window, trying hard not to cry. He felt someone touch his shoulder. He turned around and saw Ash, tears laid thickly on her eyes.

''Hey! Bastard! Your Godfather's here!'' Geoff's voice, almost sickly musical sang out. Ash whipped around, about to do something, her eyes shining with tears, but was held back by Will. A tall man wearing a shabby black cloak entered the room. He had rumpled dark brown hair, and crooked teeth. He had large, dark eyes. He looked as if his ancestry was littered with trolls.

''Hello.'' He said, emotionlessly to Will. ''I'm Marcus, your Godfather. Ron said, you needed a home, and well apparently I was the only one who volunteered. Well, I'll allow you to say your goodbyes and all.'' He said, unfastening his cloak.

''No!'' said Geoff. ''Go! Go! You two don't even know each other!''

''Silence, Egomaniac.'' Marcus said simply, digging his hands into his jeans. ''You obviously are extremely ignorant and therefore believe this boy has links to his father.'' Geoff gaped at him.

''But-But-with-all-all do respect Marcus-''

''Mr. Flint, Geoffrey.'' Said Marcus, cuttingly.

''Right. Er-Mr. Flint-It is impossible for him not to!'' Geoff retorted.

''Foolish boy.'' Marcus said, shaking his head lightly in displeasure, while Ash and Will were punching each other and biting their lips to keep their laughter down. ''You had to have actually belonged to the dark side for a while to truly understand how they operate. The only reason I was linked with Voldemort, was because my own parents were Death-Eaters. Obviously, I chose not to coexist with such barbarians, so here I stand. Now, let Will say his goodbyes.'' Geoff just stared at him. He regained feelings in his legs and clambered stupidly over to his uncle who was looking exhausted, a traveling cloak over his arm.

''Uncle!'' Geoff hissed. ''I thought you said he was stupid!''

''Well, obviously the bloke has smartened himself up a little bit!'' Ron snapped. ''Now, I'm only giving you what you want, because you are the only one who appears to have a brain in this house.'' Geoff leaned against the wood paneling, wearing a smug look.

''Now, say goodbye, Will.'' Said Marcus gently, putting a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. Surprise shot through his body like needles. He had never had someone touch his shoulder like that, or talk to him so fatherly. At least no one that was old enough to actually be his father.

Will swallowed, giving his Godfather a faint nod, then ran to Ash, embracing her as if they were being reunited after so many years. Ash wrapped her arms around Will, and the two of them started crying. Ash buried her face into Will's wrinkly shirt. Will hugged her tightly.

''Don't go, Will. Please.'' Ash sobbed.

''I don't want to go.'' Will murmured, trying to dry his tears. ''But I have no choice. You heard Ron and Geoff last night.''

''I know.'' Ash cried. ''I know.''

''I still don't want to go though.'' Will muttered. ''Ash, you're my first true friend. I'll never forget you.''

''Now, you're making it sound like-''

''I know.'' Will interjected. ''But you-you-never really know.''

''Do you want to come out to the pavement with us, Ash?'' Marcus asked kindly.

''Yes, thank you very much, sir.'' Ash said, tearfully, gripping onto Will, afraid she might lose him.

Marcus led Ash and Will outside to the misty pavement, and waited patiently.

''I'm-I'm really going to miss you.'' Will murmured, still holding Ash in his arms, blinking back tears.

''I'm going to miss you. I swear the first chance I get, I'm going to kill my brother. I mean, how could he do this to me-to-you? It's insane! I haven't had a real friend in years! And then, you show up and now you have to go!'' Ash fell into Will's shirt, and Will hugged her. Ash stopped crying and squared her shoulders, still wiping at her face.

''Well, goodbye, Ash.'' Will murmured.

''Bye, Will.'' She whispered. Marcus slid an arm around Will's shoulder and took him down the street. Will couldn't bring himself to look back at Ash, not knowing when, if ever he would see her again.


End file.
